On writing: poetry and prose

What Happened at the Library

I got to the library around 1 PM, but by that time all the good books were gone. All the books I wanted to read, that is. The new fiction had been picked over, and even the murder mysteries had nothing I hadn’t read., which was how I ended up at the back of the stacks in the Medieval History section. Desperation, sheer desperation.

I stared at the book. The title read, “A short history of the middle ages.” The book measured about a foot across and weighed, I guess, close to the twenty pounds I’d put on since Brett and I broke on Valentine’s day. I picked it up, mostly because I wanted to throw it at Brett’s head. What a momser. I mean, seriously, who breaks up on Valentine’s day?

Don’t bother to answer that.

I picked up the book, and the whole bookcase swung back. A puff of foul air hit me in the face. Phew. Bad mold, lots of dust. I’m allergic to dust. Mold, too.

“Are you all right, dear?” the librarian called out. She stuck her head around the stack. “Oh, dear. They told me they’d sealed that up. Oh dear.” She was about my grandmother’s age, with white whispy hair and a round little body.

I didn’t answer. I was too busy sneezing. Maybe that’s why the trolls who tromped out of the passage grabbed her instead of me.